


The Morning After (the night before)

by msgenevieve



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Swan - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Inspired by Art, domestic fic, let's play house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 12:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1744955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msgenevieve/pseuds/msgenevieve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the morning after the night before, and there is more than one sore head in Storybrooke.  Which would be fine, of course, if it weren’t for the pesky issue of babysitting duty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Morning After (the night before)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Scribblecat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribblecat/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Home](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/53702) by Scribblecat. 



> Note: I wrote this story a little while ago and stashed it away until my fandom bestie scribblecat had finished the artwork that inspired this little drabble. So, as always, this is for her as a thank you for all the nit-picking and cheerleading that make me a better writer, and also for letting me write things to match her beautiful drawings.

~*~

 

Fumbling with the unfamiliar house keys, Emma pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head, then winces at the glare of the midday sun.   “Ugh.”

Her head has finally stopped aching, but she is definitely still feeling the after-effects of last night’s festivities at The Rabbit Hole.  David and Robin had wanted to buy Killian a few drinks (that had been his story, at least) and he’d insisted that she come along.   _It’s not every day a princess of the Enchanted Forest takes up residence with a notorious pirate,_ _love,_ he’d told her with a mischievous grin, and she couldn’t bring herself to refuse.  Not to mention that if her father was still willing to buy a round of drinks after they’d broken the news to him, she wasn’t about to turn _him_ down, either.

In a perfect world, she’d still be lounging around in bed, drinking coffee and water and nursing a mild hangover with greasy food.  This is Storybrooke, though, so instead she’s the impulsive idiot who offered to babysit her baby brother this morning.  She’d wanted to do something for her parents, and giving them the chance to sleep past dawn and just enjoy each other, at least for a few hours, had seemed like a good place to start.

At least, it had seemed like one when she’d offered yesterday. 

Hangover notwithstanding, things still would have been fine if she hadn’t been called out this morning (Gold and Leroy were continuing their tradition of debating exactly _who_ owned _what_ in Gold’s shop), which had put a major kink in her plans.  Luckily, she’d been able to provide a back-up babysitter who, even though his hangover had been even more impressive than hers, had agreed to take her place without too much obvious grumbling.  David had texted her thirty minutes ago to say that they’d just collected Neal and, as she fits the key into the front door, she grins, wondering what carnage she might find inside.

It’s been a week since she and Henry moved out of the loft and into a two-bedroom place overlooking the water, and a tiny thrill still goes through her every time she walks up the short pathway to the dark blue wooden door.  The only downside is Henry dividing his time between here and Regina’s, which was a little hard to swallow after a whole year of having him all to herself at first.  She knows, though, that Regina truly needs to have him in her life right now, and she’s determined not to resent their time apart.  Besides, she’d be lying if she said she isn’t relishing the opportunity to spend time alone with her _other_ housemate.

Speaking of which -

Silence envelops her as soon as she walks through the door.  No music (he’d discovered the wonders of her CD collection on the first night), no television (again, he’s a man on a mission of exploration), nothing to indicate he’s actually in the apartment.  Still, his coat is hanging near the door and his boots are in the corner, she muses, so he has to be here somewhere.

"Hey, I’m home.”  Just calling out the simple words makes her feel absurdly happy, and she wonders how long it will take to stop smiling every time she says them.  She starts walking towards the open living area, doing her best not to notice all the packing boxes they still haven’t touched. “How did you go with-"  She breaks off, stopping in her tracks at the sight of Killian stretched out on the couch, his hook on the coffee table, his book ( _Satellite Navigation for Dummies? Really, Henry?)_ on the floor.

He’s asleep.

 _The fearsome Captain Hook, fast asleep on their couch after a hard morning’s babysitting an overactive toddler_ , she thinks with a grin.  Putting down her purse, she shrugs off her coat and gloves, her gaze drinking in the sight of him.  
   
In sleep, he looks far more like how she’s always imagined the young idealistic lieutenant he once was than the world-weary pirate she knows so well, and her heart clenches like a fist, a rush of tenderness making her chest feel tight and way too full.     
   
It’s a familiar feeling, this faintly panicked sense of _too much,_ and she takes a deep breath, letting the truth of the matter sift down through her thoughts and into the cracks she’s still carrying in her heart.  The feeling of being overwhelmed fades quickly, as it always does, because this is happening and this is real and this is the best thing that’s happened to her in a very long time.

He murmurs something in his sleep, and her smile grows.  She hadn’t been planning to take a midday siesta, but it’s suddenly too tempting to resist.  There are a dozen things she could be doing - unpacking those seemingly endless boxes of kitchen things donated by her mother so they can actually walk down the hallway without tripping, for one thing - but none of those things hold the appeal of snatching a few stolen moments.

Pulling off her boots and socks, she pads across the room in her bare feet.  As she gets closer to his makeshift bed, she spies one of Baby Neal’s toys on the coffee table, obviously left behind in the usual pick-up chaos, and shakes her head.  There are times when she has to wonder at her mother’s sense of humour, and makes a mental note to mention the phrase ‘passive aggressive’ the next time she sees her.  To his credit, Killian has managed to bite his tongue on each occasion the stuffed toy crocodile has been thrust in his face by her baby brother, but she’s pretty sure that’s not going to last.

Holding her breath, she carefully puts one knee between his thigh and the cushions, her hand gripping the back of the couch for balance.   She’s no amateur when it comes to stealth, but she’s already learned that sea captains are notoriously light sleepers, and she’s completely unsurprised when he cracks open one blue eye.   
   
“What are you doing?”  
   
“I could ask you the same thing.”  Grinning, she abandons her attempts not to disturb him and sinks down beside him, one leg flung over his, her cheek pressed against the solid pillow of his shoulder, feeling the heat of his skin through his thin cotton shirt. “Wore you out, did he?”  
   
His answering chuckle rumbles through his chest.  “Let’s just say that the young prince has his mother’s sense of adventure and contrariness and leave it at that.”  
   
“He can’t walk yet,” she pokes him gently in the stomach.  “How bad could it have been?”

His head sinks back against the cushion, both eyes fluttering shut once more.  “What he lacks in mobility he makes up for in verbosity and peevishness.”

It’s hard not to laugh, but somehow she manages it.  “Poor you,” she tells him, and his lips twitch at her teasing tone. She slides her arm around his waist, burrowing closer into the warmth of his body, letting her bare feet tangle with his.  ”How’s your head?”    
   
“I’ve had worse.”  He shifts against her, as if trying to sit up, and she puts a firm hand in the middle of his chest.  
   
“What’s your rush?”  
   
“Napping during the day is bad form, love.” He arches a bureaucratic eyebrow at her which, combined with his sleep-mussed hair, has her biting back a smile.  “Especially when there are still chores to be done.”  
   
Sliding her thigh a little higher against his, she buries her face against his shoulder and breathes him in.  He smells of lemon soap and clean sweat and warm skin, and if they weren’t so tired, she’d tug open his shirt and take a bite right out of him. _Later_ , she promises herself.”The unpacking can wait.”  
   
“As the lady wishes, but don’t get too comfortable, Swan.” She feels his left arm come up to curl around her back, pulling her closer, ruining the effect of his noble words. ”I intend merely to rest my eyes for another moment or two.”  
   
“Hmmm.”  Closing her eyes, she smiles as the familiar sensation of her body sinking into his washes over her, the rhythm of his breathing slowly matching itself to hers. “We’ll see.”

“Those boxes aren’t going to unpack themselves,” he mutters thickly, his eyes already fluttering shut, his wide mouth curving in a smile as she flutters her fingertips against his chest.

“Technically, that’s not true.”  She presses a kiss against his shoulder, suddenly feeling as though she could sleep for a week as long as she was wrapped around him.  “Magic, remember?”

“Aye, I remember. How could I forget?” She feels his soft laughter beneath her cheek, and his arm tightens around her.  Silence settles around them as she drifts towards the edge of sleep, the warmth of him almost as soothing as the gentle stroke of his left wrist up and down her back, and the last thing she remembers is the soft touch of his lips at her temple. 

  
 

~*~


End file.
